


Dysfunctional

by SedgeGrass



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SedgeGrass/pseuds/SedgeGrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hanzo joins Overwatch, he seems “fine” (as “fine” as Hanzo can be), but he feels weird. Wrong, even, and he can’t figure out. He feels like there’s something going on just beneath the surface of his consciousness, concerns his brain just won’t tell him and it’s infuriating. What are these thoughts clawing at the back of his mind? How is he supposed to fight this threat he can’t see? And in a turn of events he was not expecting, McCree of all people turns out to be the one who helps him figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all you lovely people and welcome to my first fic on AO3! Just to give a brief explanation of what's going on, the first few chapters of this fic will be entirely Hanzo's flashbacks, and afterwards we'll get to the good stuff! Also, special s/o to my awesome friend Zephyrenn over on tumblr who helped me proof read and develop the plot (even if she doesn't realize it)! I'll be updating the tags to this story as it becomes relevant, so stay tuned!

When Hanzo was young, he always had some desperate girl throwing themselves at his feet. He was the heir to one of the most powerful clans in all of Japan, so he was bound to have at least a few ‘admirers’. They would croon at him from the dark alleyways that littered Hanamura, or if god-forbid one of them was desperate enough to actually approach him, his bodyguards would drag them away, usually screaming. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it, but he’d also be lying if he said that he hadn’t eventually fallen for one.

She was probably a whore, going by the name ‘Aiko’. She was also probably at least 10 years older than him, but he didn’t care. Most of the women that tried to seduce him were too audacious, too brash. But she… She was different. She never said a word to him as she caught his eyes, brushing probably just a bit too close on the sidewalk for the comfort of his guards. Sometimes she was there and sometimes she wasn’t, but eventually Hanzo found himself looking for her gaze. Her face was rather forgettable if he was being honest, but her _eyes_ were what Hanzo could never ignore. They were deep and alluring and almost _taunting_ him to come closer and learn what thoughts were actually swirling deep within them. He could never resist.

The first time he saw her, he snuck out in the dead of night. He had lain awake, tossing and turning before he made up his mind. He slipped through his window in nothing but his Jinbei, bare feet barely making a sound as they hit the stone floor of the courtyard. The soft moonlight tinted pink by the cherry blossoms soon blurred into the harsh buzzing reds and blues of neon signs as he ran and jumped from low rooftops to unseen shop corners and the shady spots beneath broken street lamps. He searched half the city, heart pounding with the thrill of escape and discovery when he finally managed to find her.

As he dropped from the tiled rooftop of a decrepit noodle shop to the rough dusty street, he saw her. She was already watching him with those dangerous eyes of hers, smiling sweetly like she’d always knew he’d come. His mind went blank as he stood panting, the woman slowly approaching with outstretched hands. She had whispered sweet nothings into his ear with the voice of a lovesick siren, soft hands drifting up his abdomen and nearly tickling up his ribs before they chose their place hung around his neck. He had leaned wholehearted into her in every way, and it wasn’t until he returned home late into the night did he realize that he was no longer in the possession of the ornate gold clip that normally held his hair into its topknot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

He returned to her after that, for months and months. Once a week, he would slip out of the palace and search the breadth of Hanamura, looking for those eyes. She would greet him with a voice that twinkled like the sound of ice water clinking in porcelain **,** and her face would light up as he produced beautiful jewelry, inlaid with the stones of jade he quickly learned she particularly adored. People questioned why he no longer kept his hair tied up, but he quickly brushed it off as wanting a style change. No one was stupid enough to argue with him.

Time passed and his family life continued. The clan elders continued to bicker with his father over his brother's behavior in backhanded remarks, as if they were playing a game in which they hadn't already tested his father's patience a thousand times over. His training continued as always **:** the one constant in a life full of shady contracts and highly illegal trading schemes. Hanzo’s life was predictably unpredictable, the way he was born to live. His father would grow old and high-strung, nagging and raving about the blood that ran strong in his two sons. Hanzo would ascend to his crooked throne and show the world how his pedigree was the least of his qualifications. Genji would stand behind him, his loyal adviser and beloved brother, always keeping him on his toes.

But it was not meant to be.

His father grew sick with an illness no top secret drug nor highly experimental treatment could cure. The clan's coffers drained as money was wasted on pills and lost contracts. Eventually the man died one morning, peacefully drifting off to a sleep that would not end.

The elders lunged at Hanzo like coiled snakes, injecting their petty feuds and venomous thoughts into his head. He was a dragon, and a dragon protected his honor. A dragon did not let a weak link break the chain of his clan. A dragon did not let the weak leech off of the prowess of the strong. A true dragon would not let his brother live.

His mind spun, sight fogged by the grief of loss and tinted red with the thoughts of righteousness. The relationship between him and his brother frayed like silk slashed by a steel blade. Like the cleaving of muscle from sinew. Like the blood that spilled across the inner sanctum and poisoned the air with wrath and fear. The blood of the dragon would forever remain strong in Hanamura, but Hanzo would not.

He traveled the world for years, stricken with grief and remorse over what he had done. He refused to affiliate with his clan, striking them from his mind like an ink line through a name. Sickened by the sight of a blade of hands, he left the sword for the bow. He sold his skills for money after that, taking on a much deadlier form of practice. If there was one thing Hanzo knew how to do, it was how to get the job done, even if it involved killing. Especially if it involved killing. It was the last bit of stability and certainty he had left.

Eventually **,** he returned to his childhood home, expecting to encounter confrontation and hatred, only to find abandoned buildings and a safer Hanamura. He started a ritual then. He would honor his brother properly. Every honorable action he made would be for him. Every year, he would pay homage to him in the inner sanctum where he wrongfully slew him. Every thought he made would be consumed by him, his brother, Genji, his mistake, his disgrace.

The memory fades out from him as the breath leaves his lungs and the arrow flies from his fingers. Everything is different now.

Genji is alive. It’s a sentence he never thought he’d ever be able to say again, and why would he? His brother was dead. He was there when it happened. It was him who saw the life drain out of eyes. Eyes full of tears, rage, pain, betrayal, fear.

The thunk of the arrow burying itself into the hard foam target rings unsatisfyingly in Hanzo’s ears, mind too hollow in thought. His movements are automatic, drawing the bow string back once more before letting it find its place next to its companion in the middle of the target. Normally someone is there, complimenting him on his impeccable aim as they practice beside him, but no one is here today. He’s completely alone with his thoughts as the arrows continue to fly from his fingers **,** until he reaches into his quiver only to realize there aren’t any left. He grunts in dissatisfaction, trying to shake himself from his stupor. He’s been like this for weeks now; drifting off into a state of melancholy after the shortest period of silence.  He feels like there’s something going on just beneath the surface of his consciousness, concerns his brain just won’t tell him and it’s infuriating. What are these thoughts clawing at the back of his mind?

Hanzo is snapped out of his second trance when the hiss of the hydraulic doors signal someone's entrance. He turns to see McCree, looking oddly disappointed in the fact that he’s been denied the opportunity to make a grand entrance of himself by throwing it open like a normal hinged one. He saunters out, looking ready to talk his ears off before he surprisingly walks right by, with not even a single moment of eye contact. It infuriates him.

“What are you doing here, cowboy?”

“Practicing; the same as you, or so I would assume” He nods off to Hanzo’s target before suddenly realizing that it’s indeed littered with arrows, all perfectly centered over the small painted target surrounding the foam silhouette's ‘heart’. He let’s out a low whistle. “And you’re not doin’ too bad either, I must admit."

Hanzo huffs, refusing the compliment he would normally accept with a gentle nod. McCree ignores the way his eyes darken and begins to shoot away. Hanzo doesn’t stay too long before throwing his bow over his shoulder and storming out into Gibraltar’s metal halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we finally get McCree on in this mess. Let me know what you guys think of the story so far! -Fescue


End file.
